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This poem is often wrongly thought to be by Robert W Service. It is published here to the memory of Hugh Antoine D'Arcy, its rightful father.
An Evening with the Bard of the Yukon, July 18 th 2003 at 20.30pm in the Town-Hall of Lancieux, Brittany.
All Entries 1997 - 2002
All Entries 2002
Odds and Ends, Other Items Of Interest About Robert


Published by Webmaster on 07/30/2003 (3137 reads)
In callow youth my crusty college,


In callow youth my crusty college,
    Although it fed me facts in heaps,
Omitted to instill the knowledge
    That P-E-P-Y-S spells Peeps.
And as I pride myself my step is
    Precise where diction is concerned,
When someone said: "Pray, who is Peppies?"
    You may imagine how I squirmed.

Despite the old boy's fornication,
    And dashing rakes and demireps,
I like his diurnal relation,
    And oftentimes I called him "peps".
Yet I am grieved beyond the telling,
    And disillusion o'er me sweeps,
To think, with all that swanky spelling,
    Old Sam was simply Mister Peeps.

Well, what care I; for what the hell is
    Pronunciation when all's said;
It's my belief the way we spell is
    The way a surname should be read,
And so pedantic scorn un heeding,
    It's "Peppies" he will be for keeps. . . .
Ah no, old Sam, when you I'm reading
    By gosh! I'll never call you PEEPS.

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